Then She Fled Me by Sara Seale Read Free Book Online Page A

but Miss Dearlove had to confess it was pleasant to eat wings of chicken in one ’ s fingers and be told there was duck when that was finished.
    “ Well, now, ” Miss Dearlove said brightly when they had finished eating, “ tell me how this came to be called Cuchulain ’ s Keep. ”
    They told her the story of Cuchulain and his courting of Emer, and the war for the Brown Bull of Cuailgne.
    “ It ’ s said that he used to watch here from this tower waiting for the signal from Slieve Rury to tell him his enemies were sighted, but I don ’ t think the battle was so far west, ” Sarah said without turning her eyes from Slieve Rury, the distant mountain which rose, with a lovely spiral grace beyond the lough. “ There was no north road, only the south, just as you see it now. ”
    Miss Dearlove blinked. It was wild and lonely up here on the mountain-side, and the Hound of Ulster and his fierce deeds were not the pleasant company that elves and leprechauns would be.
    “ Well, now, ” she sai d , rallying. “ You see you do know some folk-lore after all. ”
    “ Is that folk-lore? ” enquired Danny with surprise. “ I thought it was history. ”
    “ Oh, my dear little boy! ” She laughed. “ Those things aren ’ t true .”
    He looked at her with pity, but said nothing, and Kathy, unable to resist such an obvious cue, murmured gently:
    “ ‘ There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio ...’ ”
    Miss Dearlove po u nced happily. “ ‘... Than are dreamt of in your philosophy, ’ ” she said smugly. “ Yes, I know, Kathy. One should not be hasty. After all —”
    “ The ass has broke loose, ” suddenly shouted Sarah, employing, as she did in moments of agitation, Nolan ’ s more picturesque phraseology. “ Come on, all of you! If he feels his freedom he ’ ll be away to his stable, and we with miles to walk home. ”
    They went slipping and sliding down the mountain path, and Miss Dearlove stood up to watch them, thinking that this, too , was typical. Miss Pringle would not be sympathetic, but she would be amused. The Riordans were undoubtedly quaint, She could hear their voices floating up to her, soft, blandishing, Irish voices, coaxing the donkey. “ Ah, come on, now ...” “ Woa, Cosgrave, will you wait awhile ...” “ Mind yourself, Kathy, he ’ s quick with his heels ... Danny, head him off! ”
    They dodged and doubled, Sarah leaping over stones and gullies with a grace that Kathy surprisingly lacked. It began to rain. Miss Dearlove struggled into her mackintosh and. tied her head up in a scarf, and thought of the Miss Kellys and their guest house on the other side of the lough. From all accounts they did not indulge in such antics. With a shout, Sarah had the donkey by the tail, hopping this side and that to avoid his kicking heels, and Danny ran to his head with a halter.
    “ Och, you sly, murdering divil! ” cried Sarah, wrath taking the place of guile, and she slapped the donkey hard on the rump with the flat of her hand.
    They harnessed him to the cart, then started up the mountainside to collect Miss Dearlove and the lunch baskets. Miss Dearlove found the journey back unpleasant. It was a long time before she could ride in the cart owing to the nature of the boreens, and when she was able to perch uncomfortably on the hard, narrow seat, her wet scarves dripped down the back of her neck. Kathy beside her seemed lost in a dream, her eyes blank and incredibly blue, her hair curling into wet ringlets. Every so often she changed places with Danny, but Sarah seemed tireless. She swung along beside the donkey, a mackintosh slung carelessly round her shoulders barely keeping her dry, and sometimes she whistled, and sometimes she remarked incomprehensively, but with perfect sincerity: “ Isn ’ t it a lovely day? ”
    Miss Dearlove was tired and cold by the time they reached Mrs. Donovan ’ s cottage. She felt, rather crossly, that she could not possibly care how Mrs. Donovan ’